I think its time to re-kindle the football debate. Well, its not really a ‘debate’, just an ongoing argument and a collection of facts and data. All of which became much more palatable yesterday for some reason. Ok, a good reason. We won. But not just, like, ‘won’, in any easy, normal, predictable, dull sense of the word, the way Man City ‘won’, f’rinstance. This was ‘won’ as in ‘won proper, innit’. One has to downgrade one’s grammar to get into footballing character. I can’t even write about football without my ‘stick-on, authentic-looking, half-sleeve tattoo’. Cos at da enna-da-day…

We went to Bournemouth. We were on a roll. Sadly, not in the good sense. We’d lost our last 2 league matches. Appallingly to Manchester United and disgracefully to Newcastle United. I was grateful Bournemouth aren’t ‘United’. Spurs fans always look for ‘signs’. We’ll take anything.

The problem has been, as far as I can see, that we’ve changed our style under Conte, which is fine (if you like dull, defensive, pragmatic, uber-Italian style footy), if it gets the results. But that seems to involve starting games with a particularly back-foot mind set. We start slow and very very careful. Under Pochettino we flew out of the blocks like rabid Usain Bolts who’d all failed multiple drug tests. I loved that. It unnerves opposition. But now we’ve become the unnerved. And if I’m honest, I fucking hate that. Makes me very nervous. Yet that’s how we play each and every first half. 9 men behind the ball, Sonny and Harry not allowed north of the half way line. Then in the second halves we start to flow a bit, speed up, take a risk or two, even though Conte screams a lot and implores everyone to GET BAAAAACCCKKKKK.

So yesterday we played… errrr… well, pretty much the same way really. Start slow, give away a cheap goal early on, for the fans? Then remain slow until… we concede another goal. Then at about the 60 minute mark, make a few substitutions, bring on some muscle, change shape, change tactics and start looking like a proper ‘top 3’ team. But is there enough time? Can we draw level? Should I put the razor and sleeping pills down and even… hope?

We did score, twice, itself quite amazing. And then, incredibly, the imperious Rodrigo Bentancur hit the winner in a bit of a scramble. Oh my God! That never happens. But it did. The footballing Gods not only did the right thing, for a change, but also sorted out Chelsea at Brighton.

So yes, I’m only singin’ when we’re winnin’. Because my soul leaves the dark place it inhabits when we’re not.

Very happy Sunday, even though tennis is off agaiaiaian cos of rain.

A xxxx